Page 47 of I Knew You Were Trouble

‘If so, shecouldbe in America,’ I say, ‘but with Jon, she could be anywhere.’

‘Nota fiancée,’ says Marie in a thick French accent, and all our heads swing in her direction. She retrieves a packet of cigarettes from the pocket of her leather jacket and for a second, I think she’s about to light up. Instead, she takes out a cigarette, then sucks on it as if itislit.

How bizarre. And when is she going to expand upon the ‘not a fiancée’ comment? I can’t say I’m particularly impressed with Marie thus far.

‘Sorry, Marie,’ says Poppy. ‘What are you saying?’

After exhaling a non-existent plume of smoke, Marie trains her beady eyes on me.

‘Her name is Lucia Rossi and she’s a British-born, half-Italian artist living in Verona. He hasn’t proposed yet, but hehasbought the ring.’

This revelation stuns the rest of us into silence.

12

POPPY

I’ve worked with Marie for years now and I’ve never doubted her ability to deliver – like she just has – but I’ll also never get past how frustrating she can be. Why didn’t she tell us thisbeforeKate got here?

‘Very helpful information, Marie,’ I say with a clenched jaw.

Ursula and I exchange a look of solidarity; I can tell she’s frustrated too.

‘Uh… sorry…’ Kate splutters. ‘How do you know all this – about the third woman? Lucia… um…’

‘Rossi,’ Marie supplies pointedly. ‘When Poppy contacted me yesterday, I looked into your Jon Dunn. Pfft,quelle espèce de fils de putain,’ she says with a disdainful jerk of her head.

‘Marie,’ I caution. My French may be lacking but I understand ‘son of a bitch’ and there’s every chance Kate does too. We donotuse profanity in front of clients at Ever After.

Marie shrugs like a bored teenager and it takes all my resolve not to growl at her.

‘Sorry,’ says Kate again, clearly perplexed. ‘I meanthow– as in, how did you uncover the identity of Jon’s um…girlfriend?’ she asks, faltering on the word. ‘And so quickly?’

‘Marie is one of the top investigators in this part of the world,’ says Ursula, leaping in before Marie can give one of her typical dry retorts.

‘Kate,’ I say, redirecting the conversation, ‘you have thoughts on how to seek retribution against Dunn. Could you please explain what you had in mind to Ursula and Marie?’

‘Oh, yes, of course,’ she says, visibly composing herself.

To her credit, Kate may have been caught off guard by Marie’s revelation, but she switches seamlessly into her explanation as if she’s in a professional setting, outlining her idea clearly, articulately, and thoroughly. And she’s obviously given it more thought since we spoke on Saturday.

‘Now, Jon is legitimately wealthy, but it’s inherited wealth,’ she says. ‘He hasn’t worked a day in his life.’

‘Oui,c’est vrai,’ Marie concurs, capturing our attention for a second time. ‘The family’s wealth is generational. The last Dunn to work was Dunn’s great-great-grandfather. He owned a shipping company that was very profitable from the 1920s. All the first-born males since…lazy.’

‘All the more reason to get him to donate a large sum to charity, don’t you think?’ Kate asks, a bitter edge to her words.

‘It’s a compelling argument,’ Ursula replies. ‘But there’s wealthy and there’swealthy. What’s a “large sum” to Jon Dunn? Marie, do you have any indication of his net worth?’

Marie consults a page in her tiny Moleskin notebook. ‘A hundred million pounds – approximately.’

‘Oh my god!’ Kate exclaims. She stares at Marie, wide-eyed. ‘Then I’m definitely keeping the ring!’ she declares with a scoffing laugh.

Marie sniggers at that – a rare occurrence – and I curb my own laughter.

‘Hmm,’ says Ursula, tapping a fingernail on the table, ‘it might be challenging to make a significant dent in that sum.’

‘Or we simply up the ante,’ Kate suggests with a wry smile, and Ursula nods approvingly. ‘To that point, theamountof the donation is not all of it,’ she adds, getting to the crux of the idea. ‘It’s the chosen charity. Apparently, Jon has a particular disdain for arts’ education. According to him, children should study the three Rs and nothing more.’

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